Feeling White

by Charlotte E Hart

  “He couldn’t. I threw his phone in the toilet,” Belle says quietly beside me. I glare at her instantly.

  “What the...? Christ, Belle, why would you... Actually, who cares? It doesn’t matter now anyway, does it?” I reply with a resigned huff.

  I don’t even know why I’m bothering to have a go at Conner about it because I should have known how he’d react to not being aware of everything. I know what’s coming and it probably won’t be pretty, so I can only hope they get on well and Alex doesn’t return in a dark mood. Actually, I’m not even sure I want to take that risk. I could just go back to the apartment now and forget this whole being happy thing because really, I’m just not in the mood at all.

  Belle strokes my arm and smiles at me. It’s sweet but not helpful in the slightest, so I gaze back at her with a small smile, desperately trying to say sorry for my outburst while inwardly wondering if it would be rude to leave them to it. I’ll just slip off later. No one will notice if I’m not here and Alex will be in there with his new found sister for most of the night anyway. Even if he’s not, I’m not staying around to be shouted at or something for simply trying to help. I plaster on my best fake smile and turn back to them both.

  “Go mingle, honey. I’ll be fine and you need to show off that ring,” I say as I pick up her hand and almost burst into tears again at the sight of it. “And you, Mr. Avery are wonderful and I’m very happy for you.” He chuckles at me and then pulls me in for another hug.

  A large woman eventually butts in and grabs Belle’s hand from mine to ogle the diamonds and before I know it, people are milling in between us and chatting to them about the whole engagement thing, so I let myself disappear into the background so I can make a run for it. Walking as fast as I can toward the doorway, I scan the area for Andrews, hoping not to find him hovering about so I can make a quick escape in a taxi. Clearly that isn’t going to happen because he spots me immediately and stands up.

  “Elizabeth?” he says. My throat constricts at his worried face and I struggle to keep the tears from falling again at his emotional response to me.

  “Michael, I... I want to go home. Will you take me home please?” I stutter pathetically.

  “Of course. Let me get your coat,” he says as he rushes off to the cloakroom. I walk straight outside to wait for him and as usual, he arrives very quickly and hurries me to the car.

  “Are you okay?” he says as he pulls the car away from the curb and heads in the direction of Alex’s.

  “No, Michael, not Alex’s. My apartment, please,” I reply, seriously not wanting to get into a conversation with him about it. He nods his head and turns the car around then thankfully continues all the way home in silence. Unfortunately, the moment he opens the car door once we’ve arrived, my tears erupt again. I don’t even know why I’m crying anymore but I can’t control the sobs that keep coming. His arms wrap around me tentatively and that’s all it takes for every ounce of my exhaustion, nerves, pain and insecurity to flow straight out of me into his chest. I can’t help it. I realise I’m crying on the chauffeur, but he’s more than that to me now. He’s a friend, someone who, for some unknown reason, I trust implicitly.

  “Shh, you’re okay, Elizabeth. It’s okay,” he soothes as he stands and holds me, gently swaying me backwards and forwards like you would a child. It’s so relaxing that I eventually manage to contain my tears and gaze up at him with a sniff and a small smile.

  “Thank you. I think I needed that,” I say as I lean into him and then back away as my brain catches up with what’s going on. He chuckles and releases me. It’s a lovely sound and one I’ve never heard from him before.

  “You’d make a good father, Michael,” I say as I nervously shift from foot to foot, suddenly feeling very uncomfortable about my little outburst. He frowns.

  “I hope I already do,” he replies. He has children?

  “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean...” That’s embarrassing.

  “It’s alright. I’ve got two, a son and daughter, both in their twenties and both at university. I’m very proud of them,” he says with the biggest smile I’ve ever seen as he puts his hands in his pockets and looks at the floor. I’m shocked. He only looks about thirty-five, but clearly he isn’t.

  “Oh right, they must be a credit to you,” I reply as I turn toward the building. He walks beside me and chuckles. It makes me smile again.

  “It’s nothing to do with me. Their mother is a great woman, but I’m trying my best.” I put my hand on his arm and grin across at him. He’s suddenly rather lovely indeed and completely swoon-worthy in a dependable sort of way.

  “Thank you for bringing me home. You should go back now before Mr. Explosive realises I’m gone,” I say as I reach for the door.

  “Probably. Are you okay now?”

  “I think so. If he shouts at you, tell him to go jump off a cliff or something,” I reply with a giggle. He frowns again and holds the door for me.

  “Goodnight, Elizabeth.”

  “Goodnight, Michael,” I reply as I duck under his arm and head for the elevator, taking off my shoes on the way. I haven’t even got the energy to walk. I just want a bath and my bed.

  As I throw my bag down on the counter, my phone beeps at me so I dig it out and hope it’s something good.

  - Assume you’ve gone. Are you okay? Do you want me to punch the bastard? x

  Belle, bless her.

  - Yes, sorry. Not in the mood. At home now and no, don’t you dare. Just enjoy your night and be madly in love. So happy for you x

  - Okay, honey. Sleep tight x

  I can only imagine the scowl on her face the next time she sees Alex, but sod it. I’ve had enough. I actually can’t even be bothered with a bath so I drag the dress over my shoulders and head for my bedroom to find something more comfortable.

  One hour later and I’m staring at the television, trying to stop my irritated rambling to myself as I sip at some whiskey I’ve found in the back of the cupboard. I’m hurt, obviously, but I actually feel slightly more angry than hurt. Yes, I know he doesn’t like not knowing things, but I did it for him. I did it to make him happy. And yes, I realise I probably should have told him about it but then he would have known she wasn’t going to turn up and that would have made it uncomfortable for everyone. I was trying to help, for fuck’s sake. How dare he go all moody about it and dismiss me? Was he trying to make me feel bad about being a nice person? And what the hell did he think I was up to? Is this another one of his paranoid she’s out to destroy me things?

  Idiot.

  I seem to be becoming more and more annoyed as the minutes progress. All thoughts of poor Alex have now disappeared, to the point of me beginning to consider picking up the phone and shouting at him. Why would he ruin a perfectly nice evening by having a temper tantrum without asking me about it first?

  Arsehole.

  And I’m not even there to smile with Belle about her happy news. Yes, I realise this is my fault because I left but I left because of him. Didn’t he think that maybe he should have waited to have this discussion with me later on?

  What a bastard.

  And I had to deal with yet another slut that he’s more than likely slept with. Well, not slept with obviously, but had sex with. Clearly I’m the only one who gets the honour of sleeping with the man, but I’m not feeling very honoured about it at the moment at all. How dare she look at me like I wasn’t worthy or something? Who the hell does she think she is with her gorgeous blonde hair expertly teased to perfection and her three mile legs highlighting her probably Alex screwed groin? Bitch.

  Yep, spitting mad, so mad that I’m now pacing and considering what to do about my very pissed off state. I should go back over there and confront him about it. This is not the Alex White show where everything always goes his sodding way and the rest of the world be damned. He needs to know how his actions affect people, the most important person being me, obviously.

  I narrow my eyes at the door and mull over my option
s. Is he still even there? He’s not here begging for my forgiveness for his outrageous behaviour so I can only assume he’s either still there or has gone home. He might still be sitting there with his sister, not even realising I’ve left. No, Belle won’t have let that happen. She will have made her point very effectively by now, I’m sure. Sudden thoughts hit me of him being with the bitch. Oh, that’s great. She will have latched her fingers into him and will now be helping him through his inner turmoil, probably using her tongue as medicine to soothe his poor tortured bloody soul.

  Oh god, he wouldn’t, would he? He might. I have no idea. What does he do when he’s that mad?

  In fact, did he have sex with anyone when he was in New York? That’s what he does to get rid of emotional pain, isn’t it? Takes me, aggressively, in that dark place of his with all his brooding beauty forcing its way into my heart again and tearing another layer away from me. Surely he wouldn’t do that to us, to me? He loves me, or at least I think he does.

  This is absolutely not good at all. What the hell do I do now?

  I stare into the amber liquid that’s swirling around the glass I’m holding and watch as it ripples its waves at me before lifting it up and tipping it back.

  Sod it, I’m going to bed.

  I’m clearly too tired to think rationally about any of this, and the last thing I want to do is get involved in a argument with him when I can’t make sense of things in my own head. He’ll verbally rip me to shreds or use his sexual glory to manipulate the situation to suit himself, which I will definitely give in to because Christ, he looked good tonight. I’ll also very quickly see his pain and when that happens, I’ll throw myself at him to help him, give him anything he needs to find his way back to me, or himself, or us. I have no idea what that even is but it’s too bloody wonderful for me to want to avoid at any point. And I definitely can’t bring myself to even vaguely entertain the possibility that I might turn up and find him with the bitch because that would be far too much to deal with at the moment.

  So putting my whiskey glass into the sink and switching off the light, I make my way to my bedroom in the hope that sleep might be forthcoming. It more than likely won’t be, but maybe if I cuddle up to his bow tie, I can pretend that none of this happened.

  Tomorrow I’ll deal with whatever it is that I have to deal with.

  So much for buying Christmas decorations.

  Happy sodding Christmas.

  Chapter 18

  Alexander

  “S he lied to me,” he said, glaring at Conner as if it was his fault. It sort of was now that he knew all the information. Thankfully Serena had now stopped her constant please fuck me again, Alex conversation and disappeared. She wasn’t that good the first time and the thought of having anyone else wrapped around him now was frankly repulsive.

  “So what were you gonna do? Screw Serena to make yourself feel better about it? I thought you were better than this, Alex. Fuck, what the hell is wrong with you? She didn’t lie. She did it because she loves you and wants you to be happy.”

  Of course she did, because she’s an angel whose sole purpose on this godforsaken planet is to make people happy, to make him happy, and his fucking paranoid brain was making him think all sorts of crap that he really shouldn’t have even been entertaining, but he couldn’t stop it. That darkness rolling over him in waves was like a comforting blanket of normalcy. It was where he was safest, where he was in control of his feelings.

  “I wasn’t doing anything with Serena. She just got me another drink.” Conner raised his brow in that irritating I know better fucking way that he always did so well. Alex sneered and turned back to the bar. “Look, just fuck off, will you? If you think I want any piece of that whore near me again, you’re wrong. I don’t want anyone else.”

  No, he didn’t. He’d just gone through possibly the most emotionally challenging hour of his life and when he came out, she was gone. Why he’d even thought he could do that without her was unfathomable. He’d been a fucking wreck but he’d been so mad when he realised that the woman he loved had gone behind his back that he couldn’t even look at her let alone have her within ten feet of him. But he’d damn well expected her there when he finished. He didn’t know what the hell he was going to do with her or what depths he would need from her, but he did know that he couldn’t breathe without her, again.

  One hour of staving off another pathetic panic attack, one hour of hurt and anger, one hour of remembering his father’s face, his hands, his bloody tie. One hour of looking into the eyes of a sister who had received every child’s dream of a mother and father who loved her with every beat of their hearts, and what did he have? Only her, and she’d left him when he needed her most.

  He deserved every fucking footfall of her running from him. What sort of man did that to the woman who loved him? The woman who’d met his sister and said everything that needed to be said to get her to turn up tonight. The woman who’d gone out of her way to remind Evelyn that Alexander White was actually just a man who was just as nervous as she was. The woman who’d clearly shone so brightly that his new-found sibling had no choice but to ramble on about how wonderful she was. Well, not ramble because Miss Peters was certainly not a rambler. Conner was right; she was scolding with her words to say the least. But whatever it was that Elizabeth had said, it seemed she made the difference in his sister’s decision to give them a chance of a relationship of some sort.

  Elizabeth.

  What the hell was he doing here?

  “So, why are you still here then?” Conner asked.

  Quite.

  He stood abruptly, not entirely sure why he needed her but knowing that he absolutely did. Was it the dark place churning through him or was it her arms that he needed and those sweet words of love? Maybe it was both. She seemed to stay with him through those times, and he couldn’t dismiss her like he did all the others. Maybe the two opposite emotions were rolling into each other and creating something different for him now, some mingling of anger and passion.

  “I’m going. Congratulations,” he said sharply as he turned and headed for wherever Andrews was.

  “Thanks, really feeling that,” Conner grumbled behind him. Alex stopped and turned, trying to suck in his current odd feelings and find the pleasant ones his friend probably needed to calm him.

  “You’ve done well, Conner. She’s stunning and you’ll both be very happy, I’m sure,” he said with a genuine smile. He really was happy for Conner. Belle was a formidable woman but she was spot on for him. The eye roll he received in return presumably meant he hadn’t delivered the sentence genuinely enough. Well fuck it, he’d got more important things to deal with.

  “That was fucking awful, White, honestly, absolutely terrible. I’ve never heard such utter bullshit. Just go and tell her how much you love her before my future wife beats the living shit out of you.”

  It was a good point; he could feel the death stare Belle had been delivering most of the night still penetrating his spine.

  “I’ll see you soon.”

  ~

  The drive was quiet. Andrews was in one of his non-speaking moods again, which most likely meant that he was pissed off or something else was wrong. Given that he’d taken Elizabeth home earlier, he probably knew how she’d seemed at the time, which was more than likely upset or emotional. It wasn’t a conversation he was prepared to have. What the man was thinking was of no importance whatsoever because all he could think about was her, and what he felt like doing to her, with her, in her.

  He gazed out of the window, wondering whether she’d even answer the door and then wondered if he would in her position. He still didn’t understand why she had such faith in him or even why she loved him but she did so he kept holding onto that thought as the car pulled to a stop.

  “Go home, Andrews. I’ll call you if I need you,” he said as he got out and slammed the door. He had no intention of going home. He’d just use her key and let himself in.

  Turning that
damned key was actually a bit harder than he thought it would be. It felt somehow intrusive or unacceptable for some reason, but he did it anyway while preparing himself for her reaction to him. Would she be asleep? It was entirely possible that she might be sitting there stewing herself into her own little temper about his behaviour towards her. She was becoming more forceful with her anger and it made her more fascinating to him every time she uttered a word in venom, and Christ. that vicious little demon she’d turned into when he pushed her this afternoon was hot as hell.

  “How was your night?” he heard as he closed the door and walked into the lounge area, her voice laced with sarcasm. He smirked to himself and pondered her ability to know he was there before she saw him.

  “Interesting,” he replied as he moved toward the chair in the near black room. The only thing he could see was her long legs stretched out on the coffee table with the light from the window reflecting on her skin, that beautiful, creamy skin that called his fingers to mark it in some way and claim it as his.

  He stood there waiting for another sarcastic comeback and was surprised when nothing happened, only silence as she studied him. She was getting very good at that now, finding her way into his inner battles and determining the most appropriate way to behave.

  Would she feel his need for her or was she still too pissed to allow him what he needed from her?

  If he was honest, he wasn’t entirely sure what he needed. Just being here in the same room with her again was soothing him to some degree and calming him down from his furious agitation, regardless of what she was about to deliver.

  “At what point did you get yourself a key cut to my home?” He smiled - obviously a little pissed then.

  “I didn’t. You left them in your coat if you remember,” he replied as he thought of the coat she’d left in his closet the night he left her.